


I'm Not Okay

by Angelwingsl3 (Marie_Fanwriter)



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, ME3, Minor Character Death, adult child death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 08:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18070172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Fanwriter/pseuds/Angelwingsl3
Summary: Summary:Thrust into a position of command that Adrien Victus never expected to be in, he was left to the proverbial wolves without guidance. When one mistake costs him his son's life, the Primarch finds sleep hard to come by. Thankfully, there's someone else on the Normandy who can lend an ear.Excerpt:“There won’t be another year like this for a long time. Palaven is burning.” Adrien opened his eyes and turned his head just enough to see Chakwas observing him. “I apologize. I am not much good for companionable conversation these days.”





	I'm Not Okay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keita52](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keita52/gifts).



> A gift for keita52! I hope you enjoy it.

\---

For the thousandth time, Adrien turned around in his quarters and paced the five steps it took to get to the other side of the room. He growled in annoyance and turned again. Small spaces weren’t unusual on a starship. Hell, he should be glad he had any semblance of privacy at all even if the room served the dual purpose of being the ship’s life support as well as his accommodation.

Sleep refused to come, no matter how long he lay in bed, so the Primarch had instead attempted to burn off some of the excess energy by pacing. There was no other outlet on the  _ Normandy, _ they had no combat sims, and Vakarian was sleeping off the firefight. Waking him to spar would be selfish and a detriment to the mission.

Try as he might, Adrien’s mind would not cease spooling. Every time he closed his eyes he relived what he saw on the camera feeds. Shepard had watched Tarquin fall to his death and the explosion that came after. There was no fear in his son’s voice, only conviction as he said his final words -words that burned in his mind:  _ “Victory... at any cost.” _

Victus came to a stop facing the wall. One hand rose, and he rubbed his crest. Tarquin succeeded in his mission and paid the price for that victory with his life. As simple as it was to say he died with honour, it did not absolve the father of his guilt. His son died on his orders, and Adrien had to live with that reality.

His hand reared back before letting loose against the wall. The punch reverberated against the metal, echoing in the spartan room. He felt something break and hissed at the pain. Bringing his hand back, he cradled it against his chest. At least it gave him something to focus on other than Tarquin.

_ “Primarch Victus,” _ EDI greeted him over the intercom. _ “Do you require assistance?” _

The turian’s eyes narrowed at his hand, considering the repercussions of a small break being left untreated for a few hours before replying. “No. It will wait until the day cycle begins.”

_ “Doctor Chakwas is currently in the medical bay. There is no requirement to wake her.” _

He sighed. “Very well. Inform her I am on my way.”

_ “Logging you out, Primarch.” _

Left in relative solitude, Adrien let his shoulders fall. Punching the wall was a poor choice, no matter how much Tarquin’s words were haunting him. He had duties to attend to, duties that required him to be functioning at peak capacity and not… not like this.

By the time he pulled a sweater over his shoulders and headed out into the crew deck, a few minutes had passed since he spoke with EDI. He wasn’t surprised to see the mess vacant. It had been the start of the night cycle when he first attempted to sleep. Now it must have been at least a few hours deep. Although, that did beg the question of why Doctor Chakwas remained awake.

When he reached the door, the lock was a vibrant green. He entered to find the woman in question seated at her desk, typing something on her terminal. She finished her line before turning to greet him. 

“Primarch, EDI mentioned you might be stopping by.” She stood and gestured to one of the clean beds for him to take a seat. “How may I assist?”

His mandible fluttered out, a touch sheepish, as he crossed the room. “Would you take a look at my hand,” he said without looking at her.

“Of course,” she answered without asking for details. Spirits thank whoever assigned this Doctor to the  _ Normandy, _ it was far less embarrassing to leave the cause of the break an unknown.

Chakwas took her time with the scanner, running it over his hand first and then the rest of him. “There is a fracture in your outer metacarpal,” she said first before putting the scanner down and taking his hand in hers to examine it. “How did the wall fair?”

He huffed a laugh and glanced back toward the door where EDI’s avatar would usually appear. “Dented, but still standing,” he replied.

She nodded in response, working her fingers into his palm to feel the break. “I’d say the wall won the fight. I need to set this.” The Doctor looked up in time to catch his mandible pull inward. “I’ll fetch an anesthetic.”

Adrien inclined his head in agreement, and a small sigh left him as she let go to fetch what she needed. He almost wanted to tell her not to use the anesthetic. He didn’t feel like he deserved it as he had not only caused the injury to himself, but he knew there were more important uses for what little dextro-safe medication they carried on board.

A minute later Chakwas returned with gloves on and supplies. He raised his hand to her without being asked and watched as she cleaned it before applying the anesthetic. When she began to work the bones in his hand, he looked away. While he could deal with the medical side of things in the field, it was not his preference to watch.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?” she asked without looking up from her task. Adrien’s gaze moved from the viewports to her face. He did not know if the conversation was to take his mind off what she was doing or if she was psychoanalyzing him - or perhaps both.

Adrien considered his options and ultimately decided on the truth. He had no reason to lie to the physician; she held no authority over him as she did over the  _ Normandy _ crew.

“Sleep has been hard to come by,” he admitted. 

“Mission-related stress or is it the environment?” Chakwas continued massaging the bones in his hand, and he winced as he felt one move. The anesthetic kept it from hurting too badly, but it wasn’t comfortable.

“Both.”

She hummed. The sound was soothing, even though it didn’t hit the right pitch without a syrinx to make her voice carry as a turian one would. It was odd being on a human ship. He was used to living with turians as he had all his life that the small reminder of home helped to quell his nerves.

“Perhaps there is more that I can do. Other than fixing your hand,” Chakwas said as she finished wrapping a splint in place and pulled away. “The lounge should be empty at this hour. If I recall correctly, Vakarian leaves a bottle of turian brandy in the liquor cabinet.”

Adrien’s brow-plate raised. “Oh does he?”

A small smile worked it’s way across her lips. One could almost consider it a smirk with a glint in her eyes to match. “I’ve got some of my own stock,” she informed him as she dropped the medical gloves into the waste container and placed the tools she’d used on her desk. “If you would care to join me, Primarch?”

He stood up, flexing his fingers against the splint. “With an offer like that, how could I refuse?” 

Chakwas pulled over her bottom drawer and withdrew something with a Serrice label. “Shall we?” she gestured to the door, and he led the way. 

Once they reached the portside lounge, she ushered him to the couch while she went to the bar to retrieve glasses and the other bottle. Adrien dropped into the cushions, not realizing how tired he was until the plush fabric moulded to him. The Doctor did not take long when she joined him on the other side of the couch. She poured them each a glass.

“2146,” he said, taking the bottle to examine the label. “A good year on Palaven.” 

Again, she hummed, and he found himself drawn in by the sound. He closed his eyes and took a sip of the liquor, letting it wash over his tongue before swallowing it back. There was little burn considering the quality, but enough that Adrien’s next breath smelt of brandy.

Beside him, Chakwas stopped humming to take a sip of her own drink. He could hear the fluid move in the glass and then a small clink as she replaced it on the table.

He put his glass down as well, wanting to savour it, and found words falling into the dead air between them. “There won’t be another year like this for a long time. Palaven is burning.” Adrien opened his eyes and turned his head just enough to see Chakwas observing him. “I apologize. I am not much good for companionable conversation these days.”

Her expression softened with a small shake of her head. “If there is another year at all, I will be happy. I am a realist, Victus. You don’t have to sugarcoat it with me.”

Adrien found his glass again. His mandibles fluttered around the rim as he smiled. He could guess at what the term meant, and he found himself appreciating her candour. “It would be unfair to burden you.”

“What about this war is fair?” she countered. 

He knew that fact better than most.

“You have my ear if you’d like it,” she said as she picked up her glass and traced a finger along the edge. “Or simply companionship to watch the stars.”

His nod brought him forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He took a long breath in, holding it for a moment before releasing it into the quiet room. The stars were beautiful, and the viewport gave them a stunning view of the void. “I understand why human ships have these,” he gestured with his glass to the window.

“There is something to be said for our love of exploration,” Chakwas said as she leaned back into the arm of the couch.

They sat in silence for a while longer. When the glasses were empty, Adrien refilled them before sitting back with Chakwas. Again, he considered staying silent but found her company was bringing out a desire for companionship -despite the species difference. 

“My son is dead,” he said suddenly and was glad he left his glass on the table, lest it shatter in his working hand. The injured one clenched involuntarily with his words and it made him grimace. Regardless, he continued: “And it’s my own fault.”

He felt Chakwas’ hand touch his own. It was cold against his plates but not unwelcome. She said nothing, and he didn’t dare look up to see what her expression was. He didn’t want to see pity on her face as he’d seen on Shepard’s earlier. Nor did he want to see stoicism as he’d seen on Vakarian -the turian tasked with being the bearer of the news.

Swallowing down the taste of bile that had risen in his throat was painful but necessary. He picked up the glass and downed what was left. “Fuck,” he swore and pulled away to pace to the viewport. He leaned on the transparent surface and watched the immovable stars outside.

Eventually, he heard Chakwas rise from the couch. She crossed the room to stand beside him, and a careful hand touched down on his back. “Are you okay, Adrien?”

“No,” he said, finally turning to see her eyes damp with human sadness and her lips pulled into a thin line. “I’m not okay.”

She opened her arms to him, and like a fledgling, he entered her embrace. For the third time that night, she hummed. And this time, he realized it was for his benefit. All along, she’d know the answer to that question. She’d seen the pain lingering not just in his hand but in his Spirit. This human, whom he’d only known for a few weeks, understood his anguish. 

“Have you lost a child, Karin?”

When she pulled back, he could see a tear track down her cheek. She sniffed as he ran the back of his fingers up her cheek to wipe the wetness away. “Her name was Sarah,” she answered. “And while I did not send her into battle, it was my fault she died.”

Together, they walked back to the couch and sat down a little closer than before. Neither Adrien nor Karin spoke of how their children perished, but of their happy childhoods on Earth and Palaven. As their bottles drained, and more tears shed, it became easier. 

No, Adrien Victus was not okay. But he was better.

\---

**Author's Note:**

> <3


End file.
